


Two

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: (Sven is Divorced), (kinda), Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Birthday Surprises, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Goalkeepers, Kid Fic, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: After an almost incidental bonding moment, two goalkeepers find an unexpected safe haven in each other. Eventually, they have to face the fact that what's growing between them is more than a regular friendship.
Relationships: Kevin Trapp/Sven Ulreich
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I never would have thought it would be a new ship, these two, dragging me back to writing. Really, I should have known better – sometimes the spark of a new pairing is the most powerful thing there is ^^
> 
> (tho I'm genuinely surprised I still managed to finish this on Sven's actual birthday)
> 
> @ my tiny audience of maybe half a dozen: ENJOY!!!
> 
> ORIGINAL SUMMARY: Sven Ulreich expects to spend the night of his 32nd birthday on his own. Kevin Trapp also has a word to say about that.

Kevin is already standing in front of Sven’s high-end apartment complex when he first considers that this might be a terrible idea.

Five hours earlier, his plan had seemed flawless – making good use of his day off from training and arranging a surprise visit to see the guy you were talking to all the time at the same time had sounded like a perfect combination.

Surprisingly, he’d managed to book a flight that same afternoon without running into any issues, arrived at Munich airport by 4pm before steering towards the first flower shop he could find. Then, he’d bought a nice bouquet (not made out of roses, because that might just come across as _too_ forward) and added a small yet delicate-looking cake from a small airport bakery just for the heck of it, before taking a taxi to Sven’s address.

Really, it had gone terribly smoothly, flawless from plan to execution in a way that seems almost impossible for a trip this spontaneous.

Only now, with his finger hovering over the doorbell next to Sven’s name, are the doubts starting to creep up on him.

Sven isn’t expecting him, obviously, even when Kevin had sent him a text message first thing in the morning to congratulate him.

They’d called quickly, as well, before Sven had to leave for training, just staying on the phone as they were both making breakfast, talking about everything and nothing at the same time – those calls have been becoming more and more frequent over the past few weeks, and Kevin easily admits that they’re usually the part of his day he looks forward to the most.

But still, despite that, since the first and probably only time they were called up to National Team Duty together, they’ve never yet actually met up outside of a game of Bayern against Frankfurt, and suddenly, Kevin feels nervous.

Before he can worry himself too much, though, he shakes his head to himself, pushing back his shoulders, taking a deep breath. There’s no time for worrying – they’re friends, _good_ friends by now, and after all, Kevin doesn’t plan on staying long. 

Sven should be alright with his visit. Hopefully. Probably.

After hesitating only for a few seconds more, he finally rings the bell. He startles when the intercom starts buzzing, considering for the first time that Sven might not even be home yet – even when he’d said that he wanted to spend his night just relaxing at home. (“I will have enough ruckus at the club, rest assured. The boys always go all in with their lunchtime birthday parties.” And while he sounded appreciative, he also sounded tired.)

But then, a low voice, by then so ingrained in his heart that he would be able to recognize it in a crowd, rings through the small speaker.

“Hello?”

“Sven? Hi, it’s me, Kev. Are you letting in?”

He’s met with stunned silence.

Then, the door buzzes, and Kevin grins as he pushes it open.

He skips the elevator and instead springs up several flights of stairs, careful to drop neither the flowers nor the box of lemon cake. Sven lives on the top floor, in a beautiful gabled roof apartment with a big terrace. And even though Kevin has never never been here, he’s seen quite a bit of it during the times they facetimed.

When he reaches the sixth floor, Sven is already leaning in the doorframe, blinking at him with a puzzled expression, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, clearly baffled, and Kevin's grin only widens.

“I heard it’s your birthday! Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind some company tonight? But don’t worry, I won’t stay long if you don’t want me to.”

Sven shakes his head, chuckling. “No, I mean, of course I don’t mind – come in!” He steps aside, and as Kevin shoulders past him, he wonders if he’s only imagining the faint blush on Sven’s cheeks.

He stops when he stands in the hallway that immediately opens up to a big living and kitchen area. Turning back to his friend, he quickly slips out of his shoes before awkwardly extending the bouquet.

“Um. I brought flowers,” he states the obvious.

Sven ducks his head as he accepts them, and now Kevin is _sure_ he’s not imagining him blushing – after all, even the tips of his ears are tinted red. 

Kevin’s fingers tingle where they brushed against Sven’s.

“– and cake, too.”

Sven looks at him, and the emotion in his eyes makes Kevin feel warm and fuzzy.

“Thank you. This is .... very kind of you, really. You didn’t have to. And then you came all the way from Frankfurt, too.” He shakes his head in both disbelief and exasperated fondness.

“I wanted to.”

Kevin doesn’t know why he’s tempted to place a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently before pulling him into a hug. With any other friend, he probably would.

But with Sven, he remembers the way his palm felt as he held Kevin’s hand, remembers the way his shoulder was soft yet boney when Kevin placed his head on it. Remembers the way his lips moved against Kevin’s own, and how it felt to fall asleep on Sven’s chest.

It’s not like they don’t talk about that night occasionally, or that it’s awkward or uncomfortable. In fact, usually, when it does come up, they speak of that evening in Mainz with fondness.

Yet, knowing what they did back then doesn’t explain why Kevin craves to wrap his arms around Sven, engulfing him in a hug, why feels unreachable yet lights such a yearning deep in his stomach.

It doesn’t explain why Kevin knows that once they’d be sharing that closeness again, he won’t be able to let go.

Doesn’t explain why that thought scares him but also sends his heart soaring into the highest clouds.

(He knows exactly what he's feeling. But he doesn’t know if he’s ready to admit it – doesn’t know how he’d even begin to tell Sven.)

Everything feels so complicated, and so he just gives Sven a wide, honest smile. (His stomach flips when the other keeper returns it, beaming at him.)

For the longest while, they’re just looking at each other, Sven flushing even more and Kevin's face heating up, too. Eventually, almost as if on command, they both look away.

Kevin twists the fabric of his sweater in his hands, only looking up when Sven clears his throat.

“So. Cake?”

The cake, as it turns out, even though it tastes amazing, is drier than it looks. 

They’re standing in Sven’s kitchen, and while Sven is rummaging through his cupboards to find a vase, his plate, fork and cake mostly untouched on the counter, Kevin giggles around the next dusty bite when he curses under his breath after he hit his head against an open cabinet door yet again.

Sven flips him off, but the way a smile curls at his lips is so achingly familiar already.

When he finally finds a vase and the flowers have found a home in the middle of Sven's dining table, they relocate to the living room. They sit down on the couch, side by side, and Kevin tries not to mourn how easy it would be to scoot a little bit closer, to feel Sven^s side flush against his own.

He traces the rim of his glass of water with his index finger, feeling comfortable and on edge at the same time.

“Do you have any plans for dinner?”

Sven shakes his head. His eyebrows twitch and he has his arm draped over the backrest of the couch.

“I just wanted to order pizza or something. There’s this really great Italian restaurant a few corners away – and if you can’t indulge and fuck your diet on your birthday, when can you? … Of course, Mull called me boring for just going home, but it’s just what I need and there’s nothing much else you can do these days, anyway." 

He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. It's soft, free of product and messy because of the many times Sven must have run his hands through it out of habit. Kevin wonders how soft it feels and marvels at the copper shine it gets in the rays of sun seeping through the windows.

He only notices that how distracted he is when Sven stops talking, shuffling around, turning to face him.

“Are you staying for dinner? When’s your flight home? It’s _really_ good pizza, I promise.”

The way he looks so hopeful is downright adorable – an expression that should look unfitting on someone like Sven, who would probably be called handsome but not necessarily cute – which doesn’t mean that Kevin doesn’t find the way he’s obviously deliberately making puppy dog eyes at him cute; because really, he finds it very cute indeed.

It's almost enough to distract him from the sudden bout of panic when he realizes that he hasn’t, in fact booked or even thought about a flight home. And that the last one is probably – he quickly lets his eyes flick up to the clock on Sven’s wall – leaving in about an hour at the very most.

“Uh,” he says.

“Of course you don’t _have_ to stay!” Sven exclaims, and immediately, Kevin hates how embarrassed he looks.

“No, I’d loved to! Really! But I – might not … have? A flight home?”

That shuts Sven right up.

For a second, he’s just gaping at Kevin, then his stomach starts rumbling slowly, then louder and louder until laughter breaks out of him like waves hitting the shore. He’s wheezing, clutching Kevin’s shoulder, and it’s so infectious that Kevin can’t help but joining.

They laugh until they're both gasping for breath. 

Sven is still giggling quietly, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I guess I must be really tired. Fuck. Sorry. God. I mean – oh my _god,_ Kev.”

Kevin chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“Soo yeah. I think I definitely have to stay for pizza ... and then I guess I’ll check into a hotel?”

Sven firmly shakes his head. “Nonsense. I’m not sending you back out in the rain. You can stay here. I,” he bites his lip, “I can’t imagine better company on my birthday. Really.”

As wonderful as the admission is, Kevin doesn’t miss the way Sven’s gaze flits over to some of the pictures hanging on the wall, remembering quickly looking at them before, smiling at Sven with his son in his lap and his daughter sitting on his shoulders, her little fists tugging at his hair, all three of them smiling broadly.

Yes, there’s longing in Sven's gaze – but also so much gratitude when his eyes meet Kevin’s again that it almost manages to take his breath away.

“I’ll stay.”

It feels like a promise.

It’s only later, when the two pizzas have been demolished – Capricciosa for Sven, Diavolo for Kevin – and Kevin just barely suppresses his first yawn that he realises that it’s already dark outside and that they’ve been talking for hours.

He’d worried, earlier, if they would get along as well in person as they did over texts and hours-long calls. Now, he realises that he had nothing to worry about. There’s nothing quite like being there to experience the way Sven throws back his head when he laughs or the how his eyes twinkle when he's recounting a story. 

He's magnetic, and Kevin is a shard of iron unable to pull away.

By now, Sven’s hand is close enough to tap Kevin’s shoulder, close enough that he could drape his arm over him in one small movement.

Kevin wonders if it’s accidental. He doubts it is.

Yet, neither of them make a move.

Sven is frowning at the clock, pulling a face when he realizes how late it is already.

“Do you have training tomorrow?” Kevin asks.

“Yeah. We have to be there by 8:30. You?”

Kevin shakes his head, running a hand over his hair. He still kinda how short it is now. “Only in the evening. So I can just figure out my flight tomorrow morning.”

Sven nods, then yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright then.” With a groan, he gets up. “You coming?”

Kevin only realizes that Sven doesn’t have a guest bedroom when they stand in one that clearly looks lived in. In the corner, there’s a chair over which so many clothes are draped that the original structure is barely visible anymore. A book lays open on the nightstand, the closet doors are slightly ajar. 

Sven scratches his beard.

“Excuse the mess. I didn’t know I’d be having company tonight.”

By the way they avoid eye contact, it's clear they both know how that sounds. Kevin feels blood rushing to his cheeks, thanking his lucky stars that it’s dark enough for Sven not to be able to tell.

“I can take the couch,” he offers half-heartedly, but Sven shuts him down with a roll of his eyes.

“That thing is so uncomfortable to sleep on, you won’t be able to get rid of your back pain for a week. The bed is more than big enough for the both of us. Plus, it’s hardly the first time.”

His grin is lopsided, but he doesn’t part from Kevin’s side.

They fall asleep like they did in Mainz, over a year ago, on the night that started it all – Sven’s arms around Kevin, Kevin’s back against his chest. Sven’s nose in his hair, their hands locked together.

And there they are again, the butterflies.

(They leave the apartment together the next morning. Just before they part ways, it’s Sven who leans in to kiss Kevin’s cheek.)

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt right to add this as a second chapter instead of making it it's own fic. I hope it works out. Might just write a third part that follows this eventually :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I changed the names of Sven's kids, but kept their initials

Sven has his kids with him when it happens.

At first, he hesitates to pick up when Kevin calls him – the kids don’t exactly know about him yet, and he doesn’t wanna confuse them, doesn’t want their family time interrupted … but Luka is asleep on his lap and Mia is scratching with a yellow crayon onto the backside of a takeout menu that she found on his coffee table.

With his arm firmly locked around his sleeping son, Sven reaches for his phone, swiping up and accepting the call.

“Hey,” he says quietly, careful not to wake the little boy in his arms.

“Hey,” Kevin whispers back, suppressing a yawn. “Sorry for calling after all, I know you have the little ones with you. I just – it was so quiet here.” I missed you, he doesn’t say, but Sven hears it anyway.

“It’s okay. Luki is sleeping already.”

Mia on the other hand has stopped drawing, and she’s looking at him with her small eyebrows scrunched together. “Who's that?” she asks, and really, Sven should have guessed.

For a moment, he doesn’t know how to reply. A colleague? But Kevin is so much more than that. A friend? But that’s not quite right either.

“Can I say hi?” Kevin sounds unsure but hopeful.

Sven blinks. Did he just–

“Sure.” He fumbles with his phone, quickly turning on video call.

Kevin looks adorably sleepy, with his short hair messy, sticking out at odd angles, and his eyes tired but so so kind.

Carefully, Sven transfers Luka onto his side, patting the free spot next to him on the couch.

Mia climbs up, scooting up to him with unbridled curiosity. For a moment, her and Kevin just look at each other. His daughter tilts her head and it looks frankly adorable, making Kevin chuckle, causing him to lift his hand in a cute little wave. 

“Hi there. I’m Kevin. I’m a friend of your dad’s.”

Friend it is, then. And even though Sven knows it’s just an easy description for a way more complicated relationship, one that his little girl will understand more easily, it stings a little bit.

“I’m Mia. I'm four.”

Kevin smiles. “You’re a big girl already, huh?”

“Mhmm.” She nods, picking at Sven's hoodie.

“I like her,” Kevin says to Sven and his smile is honest and contagious.

“Hmm,” Sven says, getting a chuckle out of Kevin.

“Like daughter, like father, huh?”

Sven rolls his eyes. “Hey, I’ve had a long day. Training, then two meetings, then I took these two little menaces to the zoo.” Gently, he ruffles Mia’s hair as she perks up again.

“We saw penguins!” she exclaims, scrambling to get back in front of the camera.

“Yeah? Did you see any polar bears too?” Sven tries not to feel touched by how Kevin’s eyes grow soft when he looks at Mia.

“No, silly,” his daughter says, “they live on the North Pole,” as if it was obvious.

Kevin chuckles. “Ah yes, you’re right. How could I forget. Did you have a good time?” he asks, this time directing his question to Sven, who tries and fails to stifle a yawn.

“Yeah. I’m just– tired.”

Kevin hums. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you to your evening soon. Just wanted to hear your voice, really.”

Sven smiles to himself, pressing Luka closer to his side. “Yeah.”

They both stay quiet, after that, but it's a comfortable silence. 

It’s Mia who breaks it, pushing herself up on Sven’s lap and looking at Kevin through his phone.

“Are you his Martin?”

While Kevin tilts his head in confusion, Sven freezes. He can feel his hands starting to tremble and his heart feels ready to leap out of his throat.

“Who’s Martin, then?” Kevin asks, voice still soft but slightly more pressed, as if he’s already guessed that this is important.

Mia pokes her nose. “My mama likes Martin very much. She always has that face” – she’s pointing at Sven – “when he looks at him. Does papa like you a lot, too?”

Immediately, Kevin looks nervous. 

“Do you, Papa?”

Sven’s throat feels dry and scratchy when he replies, as if he’s gotten a sudden cold. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I like Kevin very, very much.”

It’s the truth, nothing but the truth, but Sven isn’t sure if it was ready to be spoken yet, doesn’t know if he messed up with saying it. He almost doesn’t dare to look up, but when he does, Kevin has his head ducked, a private smile on his lips.

“I like your papa very much, too,” he whispers. 

It feels like a secret. Maybe because it is.

Sven can’t tear his eyes away from Kevin’s frame, his broad shoulders, tattooed arm. His short hair, the smile curling at Kevin’s lips. He feels his heartbeat pick up, stutter and race. This is it, he realizes, this is what two years of thousands of texts, hundreds of phone calls and one fateful night have lead up to.

It’s what he, for a long time, feared the most, but what feels like paradise running through his veins right now that it’s finally become true.

Mia is clearly satisfied with their answers, and so she slips off Sven’s lap without further ado, picking up a blue crayon on her way back to her drawing.

“She’s adorable,” Kevin says after a few beats, “and clearly smarter than the both of us combined. What took us two years took her only around two minutes.”

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it. It’s a thing, this is really happening, and Sven decides he can’t let this moment pass without adding what he really meant. What he, now, really wants to say out loud, too, to make sure that him and Kevin are on the same page about this.

“Kev?”

“Hmm?”

“I – I love you.”

He gets a wet chuckle in reply.

“Yeah. I got that from what you said to her.” He runs his hand over his face, grinning, his warm eyes shining from the tears pooling in them. “I love you too, Sven. I really, really do.”

His words feel like coming home.

Which, really, is somewhat ridiculous. After their shared International Break – when whatever this is, now, started – they’ve only met in person a handful of times. Usually they only exchanged quick handshakes and hugs before or after games. Sven recalls how it was between them, comfortable and relaxed and chill. No trace of this yet, not after they got so much closer than regular colleagues at the start of their friendship at least.

Although – he recalls the way Kevin came to visit him just for his birthday. Remembers the way they fell asleep together. Remembers, as if in a dream, leaning in when they said goodbye, leaving a feather-light kiss on Kevin’s cheek.

Still, back then Sven didn’t know there was a real, true chance of them ending up here – but they have.

It’s insane. It’s wonderful.

Kevin is still looking at him, and Sven suddenly and fiercely wants to hold him in his arms, to kiss him, to  _ be _ with him. He wants and  _ wants _ and the distance between them feels unbearable and impossible at the same time.

Falling in love with a guy should have been the most confusing thing that ever happened to him – but now, it's not nerve-wracking any longer. 

No, it's just how it's supposed to be.

They hang up shortly after so that Sven can bring the kids to bed – Lisa would light a fire under his ass if she knew he’d let them stay up this long, already. For a moment, he ponders how Mia and Luka probably won’t be able to recall their parents ever having been together, and for a moment he mourns that they’ll never get to have that.

But kids have never saved a marriage before, and even though their separation and divorce was a lot more amicable than the average couple’s, theirs was no different. Yet, he’d never regret the years they spent together – least of all for the two little bundles of happiness currently occupying his living room.

Then, he pictures Kevin chasing the kids around the garden as Sven and Martin exchange small-talk by the grill, with Lisa decking the table, and it feels perfect.

Whole.

His head is full when he finally retreats to his own room, nestling into his blankets, thoughts and emotions so overwhelming that he almost misses when the phone starts ringing again. 

He doesn’t even bother to check the caller before he picks up, knowing there’s only one person who’d call him past ten at night.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Kevin murmurs back, and Sven is so damn in love. “Just wanted to say goodnight properly.”

“Yeah.” Sven feels his smile grow wider, so wide it almost hurts, as his eyes flutter close out of exhaustion, yet he’s holding on to his phone with a fierce grip.

“You sound tired, love.”

Sven yawns. “We’re doing this, then?” He realizes he’s not making much sense, so he hurries to add, “The dating thing?”

He can almost hear Kevin’s smile. “I’d love that. For you to be my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend.

It feels surreal, yet it’s what rings in Sven's head as he wishes Kevin goodnight.

Kevin is his boyfriend now, just how Sven is his.

And while he never thought that's something he’d ever have, he treasures it like the precious miracle it is.

“Night, Kev, love you,” he mumbles – already counting the days until they’ll finally be in each other's arms again.

Just so, he still catches Kevin’s whispered “sleep well, love” before his eyes fall shut.

**Author's Note:**

> \- this a is a crackship (that I already am way too fond of)  
> \- so they both are pretty much straight guys in this verse  
> \- except they experimented when they're on IB together  
> \- they havent slept together at this point  
> \- they became friends after that, and initially both thought it would stay at that  
> \- well  
> \- SURPRISE!!!!  
> \- (theyre each other's exception)
> 
> I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way. Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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